


Deskjob

by Zombiiewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1407106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombiiewrites/pseuds/Zombiiewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak, secretary of Dean Smith, has to finish what he started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deskjob

**Author's Note:**

> Read. Rate. Review. :)

"Oh my fucking god,” Dean pants, one hand tangled into wiry brunette strands and the other clamping down on the edge of the desk. He spreads his legs a little wider and reclines in his armchair with a huff. His eyes find Castiel’s immediately, so wide and impossibly blue even under the shade of the table.

"How the hell do you do that?" Dean asks rhetorically, still breathless and utterly captivated by his secretary’s skilled mouth. Castiel has him buried to the hilt, nose exploring the curly hairs at his base, and is actively swallowing against the head of his cock effortlessly. All the while staring up at him with false innocence, hooded eyes, eyebrows at an incline: the works. 

Cas has been going down on him for at least a good fifteen minutes now. He’s always so eager to please—whether it means swinging by Starbucks on his way back from lunch to pick up his soy nonfat coffee latte or…this. The kid is smart too—competent. Dean can’t believe that he was ever reluctant to get an assistant.

Dean moistens his dry lips when Castiel eases back on his manhood, cupping and dragging his tongue firmly down the underside at a slow, savoring pace. He stops just shy of the tip and eyes his superior while slim fingers wrap deftly around the base of his manhood. “So good, baby. Fuck, your lips look so good wrapped around my co—” 

A knock at the door cuts Dean off. His eyes snap from beneath the desk but before he can even respond, the handle tilts and the door is already opening. Mr.Adler—his boss—strolls in casually and closes the door behind him, ”Smith, we need to talk.” Adler’s cocks an eyebrow in his direction, noting the pink tint running across Dean’s cheeks and the shine of his forehead and says, “You feeling alright, Smith?” 

Dean’s jaw is slack by this point, not because they were just walked in on—Adler can’t see Castiel under the desk after all—but because Cas isn’t stopping. His head and tongue are bobbing over his cock just as feverishly as before, albeit much quieter now. He doesn’t need to look down to know the damn brat is smirking.

"F-Fine, sir. I think I might have caught a bug or something," Dean lies, gulping heavily and sitting up a little straighter. His hands are now gripping the armrests on either side of him so all he can do is nudge the brunette with his foot in a feeble—and reluctant—attempt to get him to stop. 

"Well, no time to get sick, son. We’ve got a lot of catch up to do after last week’s conference. The focus groups responded really well to your last campaign for…" Dean is only picking up bits and pieces of Adler’s excruciatingly pointless follow-up talk; he’s confident he can tell him what he wants to hear when the time comes. Right now, he’s focused entirely on suppressing the mounting volcano of moans threatening to erupt from his throat. 

Emerald eyes dart from Adler to Cas, whom is currently mouthing one of his testicles and sucking against the pliable flesh with earnest. Dean is silent but his eyes are screaming 'you are going to pay for this later, you little shit.' Castiel simply closes his eyes and pulls off to lap at his sac insistently, uncaring of smear of saliva over his cheek from where Dean’s cock is resting. 

"Smith, are you even listening?" Mr.Adler’s annoyed tone refocuses Dean’s attention. 

"Yeah, yes. Of course. Focus group, reformatting the pitch for the local region, please continue," Dean responds, voice huskier than usual and Adam’s apple bobbing heavily with every concentrated gulp. He reaches up to tug at the collar of his white and blue striped button up and adjusts his tie. 

Adler brushes off his behavior and continues, unaware that Castiel is currently licking vertical lines up and down the other man’s shaft, practically drenching his rigid cock in a mixture of saliva and precome. Cas envelopes him again shortly after, taking him down his throat with ease and swirling his tongue over his throbbing member, the drool dribbling down his chin going unacknowledged. 

Naturally, he looks up with those stupid, perfect eyes the minute Dean’s own wander down again. Dean almost loses it right there and clears his throat to disguise a long concealed moan. Fortunately, he is able to compose himself enough to tactfully move his hand from the armrest to Castiel’s head. He slides his fingers through the boy’s fine, brown hair and cups the back of his head affectionately. It isn’t until Dean is slightly propped up against the desk that he starts to silently guide the other on and off of his length at a compromising pace—somewhere between Castiel’s porn star imitation and Dean’s request for him to stop entirely. 

Dean continues his guiding movements, slow and deep and purposeful. Although he cannot watch in his new position, it does have it’s benefits: a new appreciation for touch and self control. He focuses completely on the feeling of his cock sliding down Cas’ impossibly tight throat and the soothing sensation of the fingers kneading his inner thighs through his slacks. Every vice-like swallow against his shaft sends him closer and closer to his climax to the point where he is unconsciously crumbling one of the papers on his desk and curling his toes within his recently shined Oxfords. 

Adler’s voice weaves in and out of his lewd thoughts which are basically along the lines of how he is going to bend sweet, little Castiel over the desk and fuck the living daylights out of him the moment they have their privacy again. That is, until Castiel abruptly breaks their “agreed on” pace and starts to bob his head rapidly, practically fucking his face on Dean’s swollen member. 

Dean doesn’t even have time to react. His balls tighten, the heat in his belly drops, and not a moment after he rips the paper in his hand, he is coming. His jaw snaps shut and clenches hard enough for the veins on his neck to surface. It takes all of his willpower to keep from moaning as he spills himself into Castiel’s waiting mouth, eyes fluttering shut as the other literally milks him with those pouty lips. When Cas takes his hand into his own and presses it up against his Adam’s apple just so Dean can feel him swallow his load, Dean let’s out a choked, harsh breath and covers his eyes. 

"You look like shit, Smith." Adler is standing from his spot across from him. His phone is ringing. "Anyways, I gotta’ take this. Make sure you finish that report for me by the end of the day. If I see your little protégé on the way out, I’ll tell him to pick you up some Milanta or something,” he lets out, already answering his call on his way out. 

The moment the door closes, Dean pulls back from the desk and spreads his legs to find Cas still lapping at his softening manhood, staring up at him as innocently as ever. “You are in so much trouble, Castiel,” Dean practically purrs. His tone is sincere but the smile gracing his lips is a mixture of playful and threatening. 

Cas lets out a breathy laugh through his nose and gives his boss a few more cleansing licks before carefully tucking him back into his trousers and using Dean’s knees to hoist his head out from beneath the desk. The fact that Dean used his full name does not go unnoticed. “We both know you can’t stay mad at me, Mr. Smith,” Cas lets out cockily, squirming his way onto his knees and eventually standing between the chair and desk, still trapped by Dean’s legs. 

"Maybe," Dean muses aloud, "but I can make your job a living hell." Dean smirks and leans back in his seat, tilting his head back when he feels Castiel’s fingers gripping his chin loosely. 

Cas smirks right back and closes the distance between them with a tender, lingering kiss followed two or three chaste pecks against the corner of his mouth. ”You already do,” Cas mumbles into Dean’s lips, “but if helping you with your regional reports means getting you home early tonight, I think I’ll play along.”


End file.
